


Seven-ish Minutes in a Far Better Situation

by necrobotanical



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Alcohol, I rewrote the end three times, It! Is 4;30 in the morning, M/M, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Truth or Dare, but not in a bad way, it's cheesy my dudes, they are ooc, you better believe that it becomes an in joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrobotanical/pseuds/necrobotanical
Summary: Second time's the charm.Pretty much a direct sequel to “Six Hours in an Very Awkward Situation”
Relationships: Dr Jack Bright/Dr Benjamin Kondraki
Kudos: 50





	Seven-ish Minutes in a Far Better Situation

"And... and... and how the f-fuck did, did he, uhh..." a pause, as he reacquainted himself with gravity, "did... he get in here?!"

Days off are rare, and living in close quarters is, at least when everyone in the room is drunk, very interesting. By interesting, of course, I mean everyone gathering into a loose circle and playing drunk truth-or-dare. Not just a little tipsy, beer-or-two drunk either, I'm talking full on draped over the shitty waiting room style green sofa wasted. I'm not as drunk as everyone else, simply because I'm really not trying to get locked in confinement again (or to provide Glass with any opportunities to become the world's most well meaning rat snitch). Also, watching my colleagues go from stressed and overworked to "I'm going to fight God and win" is just fucking funny. Still, scoping out the room does tell me that the night's winding down.

Kain, sober as ever, is watching disapprovingly from a corner. Gerald's embroiled in a heated debate with a lampshade, Rights just got tangled in the blinds she was trying to fight (and losing) and... yep, she's fallen asleep, and Clef's facedown on the floor still mumbling about "how did he get in here", which honestly worries me less than it should. The guy has the alcohol tolerance of a god (or, if he's to be believed - which he isn't, but go off - Satan) and is also, when it comes to reality benders, entirely blind. He's just really, really drunk. Everyone else is either asleep against walls or furniture, or arranged in a rough circle on the floor. I've never been gladder in my life that I have permission to not wear the amulet to "team nights". Through some cruel trick of whichever god decided to fuck with us this time, I'm actually fairly attached to these idiots.

After far too long spent leant against a wall, I decide to join the game of truth or dare in the middle of the room. There's a surprising number of people left (about fifteen) in the circle, including Glass, Palmer, and... oh fuck. And Kondraki. Hoo boy, this is about to get interesting. I can see the glint in Palmer's eye from here. Life hack, kids, never let someone with a matchmaking fetish find out about your crushes. Especially not the oh whoops, it's been almost a year and a half and I think I might have actually managed to fall badly ones. Anyway, she's grinning like the cat that got the cream, Glass is doing a flawless "ascending to the nth dimension" thousand-yard stare, and everyone else has shuffled around slightly to make room. 

After a few rounds, I pick up on how this variant is played. Truth usually ends up being something like "where the fuck is the pen I loaned you", simple, but dare... sweet jesus. So far, I've seen spin the bottle (Gears and Icy, both of whom looked suspiciously happy with the outcome), several different dances that I'm nowhere near drunk enough to be physically able to replicate, and seven minutes in heaven. At this, I quickly realise where this is going. The first time I met Benjamin Kondraki, currently one of my closest friends, we got locked in an item locker together. Palmer knows this. She also knows that I fell asleep on him. Oh boy. Thing is, he's an incredibly private person. He's really easily embarassed. He doesn't show it, sure, but touchy-feely emotional stuff just makes him uncomfortable, which honestly? I get. Still, there's no guarantee that's what she's planning, and also no guarantee the seven minutes in heaven bottle will land on either of us.  
I'm snapped out of my strangely expositional musings as his turn is called. I don't recognise the guy doing the calling, which is unsurprising. There's a lot of senior research staff. He picks truth, and the whole event is comfortingly mundane. Then... the question. 

"Who... is your favourite coworker?" The guy beams like he's not just asked the most cliche question in truth-or-dare history, beyond maybe "who do you have a crush on", but Ben actually seems to be giving it some thought. Up close - I'm sat next to him - it's fairly obvious that he, like me, is only barely tipsy.  
"Hm... can I call not playing favourites?" A half-hearted chorus of dissent rises from the circle. "Okay, okay, fine. Uhh... I guess Jack, then?" Wait, what? Hang on, back up, what? He seems to have caught the sheer confusion on my face, because he shoots me a sheepish grin and a half shrug. "You were closest." I wink back, and pull out the ol' fix-it fingerguns, and the mood rapidly lightens. The other researcher gets asked the question, and ends up (unsuccessfully) trying to plank on the back of one of the sofas, and there's a few more rounds, and then...

"Hey Jack, truth or dare?" Shit. Not Palmer, so we should be fine.  
"Uhh... Truth?"  
"Did you actually try and fight someone for calling you 963 instead of the necklace... uhh... amulet... thing?" She finishes strong, with a decisive slump to the right. Anyway, yeah, not answering that.  
"Jesus, okay, dare then."  
Palmer snickers, opposite me to the left, and makes direct eye contact with the woman, who I recognise vaguely as someone from the botany management team. I begin mentally preparing to be very much within someone's personal bubble for the next arbitrary amount of time. She inhales, and...  
"Seven minutes in heaven!"  
"Oh for fuck's sake, fine."  
The bottle is retrieved and set in the centre of the circle, and spun with a shocking amount of ceremony given the general state being absolutely hammered. I am not looking at who it lands on, I am not, I am not, I am NOT hoping for it to be Ben, I am NOT-

Ben sighs, resignedly, and pushes himself to his feet. Of course it's him! Of course! Because I can't ever catch a break, and now it's time for close proximity two electric boogaloo, and I'm so glad that almost nobody's sober enough to remember this. Well, except me and him. I'm dragged out of my own head by suddenly being shut into the closet with him. It's only dark for a split second, before several instances of 408 appear, bathing everything in pale green light. It is also, somehow, smaller than the fucking item locker. There's barely ten centimetres of space between us, and it's taking all of my concentration to appear like someone with a normal heartbeat who isn't blushing or sweating. 

Not stressful at all.

"Round two of this, huh?" Something in his voice sounds different. Still gruff, but... softer? I don't know, but it's calming. I look up from my fixed, fascinated stare at the floor, and meet his eyes. I think I've forgotten how to breathe. He's looking at me with an expression I've seen a couple of times, but still can't quite identify. It's warm and soft and like nothing I've ever seen before but I know that I don't want to look away. I don't think I can.  
"Yeah... uh, yeah, round two." Smooth as sandpaper. If he couldn't tell I was nervous before, he sure can now.  
"Relax." God help me, I can hear the smile in his voice, if anything will manage to kill me it'll be this. "It's okay. I'm all the way over here, and you aren't wearing the amulet. We're both safe. It's okay." His voice has dropped, and I'm about to die, holy fuck. It's quiet and deep and slow and it's absolutely not calming me down judging by my heart's spirited attempt to beat out of my chest. My face feels a million degrees and my brain's shorting out. Yikes, okay.

Fuck it. Bite the bullet. "It's not... It isn't that, that's, uhh..." I very eloquently clear my throat and ignore how badly my voice is shaking, "It isn't the amulet. That isn't why I'm, uh... nervous?" He just looks confused, then he smiles sheepishly and clears his throat, and that's when I notice. His hands are, very discreetly, shaking.  
"So... if not the amulet, then... me? Do I- do I make you nervous?" Loaded question much? Still, there's no going back now.  
"Uh... kind of? Not in... not in what you'd necessarily call a- okay, bad phrasing, what I mean to say is- kind of- fuck it. You do, but not in a bad way." I didn't actually know I could speak that quickly. He diverts my attention from the wall by clearing his throat slightly, and when I look at him... well, damn. He doesn't look confused at all. He's smiling, slightly, and the look in his eyes has intensified to the point that when I meet them, I can't look away. I suddenly and very deeply understand the deer in the headlights.

"Define 'not in a bad way'."  
"It's kind of... uh, well, that is to say... fuck I'm bad at this, shit-"  
He huffs a laugh. "You swear a lot when you're nervous."  
"Yeah, well, you go all... all enigmatic and stoic when you're nervous." His only response is to raise one eyebrow.  
"You're doing it now! Besides, you're fidgeting with your jacket and 408 are doing that little, like... light-through-trees thing they always do when you're nervous, so, uhh... I guess that means... I make you nervous too?"  
Ben's look of surprise is something I'll treasure forever, especially given the circumstances. He then smiles, soft and genuine. Well, I felt that in my chest. "Yeah. You do."

"Um. Sorry." Woah, okay. I didn't notice how close together we've gotten. Not just emotionally, either. We're almost face to face, and I'll swear to the day I die that I can feel his heartbeat almost as clearly as my own. He very gently takes one of my hands in his.  
"There's no need, trust me." A beat of silence. "Can I... uh..." I mean, it doesn't take a genius to work out what he's asking. I'm pressed against a wall, and he's holding one of my hands and jesus, okay, yeah, he has a hand on my face, and we've both been using every cheesy romance-novel line ever, and fuck it, fuck it, I'm fucking done pretending that I don't want this.

I lean forwards, and kiss him right on the mouth.

Well, no, I miss slightly. It's more the corner of his mouth. He tenses, for a second, then kisses me properly and holy shit, okay, I get what the hype's about. He's just as warm and solid as the first time he hugged me, and he tastes of coffee and honey and I'm absolutely not letting go of him, ever, no way. To be fair, he doesn't seem to want to either, going by the fact that the hand that was holding mine isn't, anymore, and instead he's wrapped his free arm around my waist. This goes on for... a while, I have no idea, but it definitely wasn't long enough.

There's a rap on the door, and he lets me go. Still, he's right next to me and has that little smile that makes his entire face light up and I love him. I love him. He winks at me, then pushes the door open.

The next day, there's a scrap of paper tucked neatly into some documents he's given me.  
A date, a time. The only context ends up making me laugh more than I have in years.  
"Round three?"

**Author's Note:**

> It's 4;35 am, I've been writing this for the past hour and a half and I've! finally! got the boys to kiss!


End file.
